My older brother, Fergus, and I have spent most of our adult lives chasing the same thing — just never in the same place at the same time.
We’re both adventurous, but our lives have unfolded on different continents since 2009. That was the year he left home. I was still in high school.
He spent his 20s traveling around the world. And in 2016, when I was 25 and working as an editor in Toronto, he moved to Australia.
Two years later, when he moved back to Canada, I was the one who’d caught the travel bug. We were only in the same place for a few days before I left for Colombia.
I’ve been living in South America ever since.
Sibling adventure in South America
In January, Fergus visited me in Ecuador, where I’ve been living for eight years. To catch up properly, I planned a multi-day trek through sleepy mountain towns.
Walking for days through remote landscapes felt like the best way to make up for lost time.
We started in a small farming town about two hours outside Quito. With backpacks and a few changes of clothes, we set out along a dirt road tracing green mountains through farmland. Over 26 miles, we passed rows of peaks, clay brick homes, and a river carved into a deep gorge.
With no signal and no one around, we talked about everything: his winter plans, my writing, our younger brother’s upcoming wedding, and memories from camping trips we’d nearly forgotten.
At the river, we sat on rocks and drank beers we’d picked up before leaving town. Cows mooed faintly in the distance. “I’m so glad you finally made it,” I told him.
Belated celebration
It felt like a celebration six months late. Fergus had turned 40 in July, and living abroad, I’ve missed plenty of milestones. I booked a cabin along the route — a belated birthday gift, complete with a spa and traditional Ecuadorian food.
We stayed close over the years, despite the distance. Out of four siblings, we’re the most alike — athletic, adventurous, drawn to the same kinds of places. As a kid, I stole his CDs; he shaped my taste in music.
Now we both live unconventional lives: me as a freelance writer in Ecuador, him as a tree planter in western Canada.
Still, his 10 days in Ecuador were the most time we’d spent together as adults. A four-day trek through remote terrain could have been a gamble, but I knew he’d be in. No questions asked.
Witnessing his wanderlust inspired mine
Toward the end of our trip, we reached a tiny town — a church, a few dogs, a handful of homes. It was late afternoon, I was hungry and ready to stop when Fergus pushed ahead, scrambling up a steep gorge and insisting the top was “just a few minutes” away.
Sweating and irritated, I followed. Midway up this impossible-angled gorge, I checked my frustration, recognizing that I had been doing the same to hiking buddies over the past few years. And also, this trek was my idea, and I knew who I was doing it with.
Later, by a turquoise lagoon, I looked at him and saw not just the brother who packed my lunches and drove me to piano lessons, but someone I’ll rely on for decades.
When it was time to leave, our bus to Quito never came. Instead, we hitched a ride, climbing into the back of a moving truck after getting directions from other trekkers.
“Get in,” I told him, quickly translating the driver’s words from Spanish. For once, I was leading.
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